


Hope Draws Out the Darkness

by Mozart_the_Meerkitten



Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [8]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Aragorn and Maglor fight together, Battle of the Black Gate, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence, Gen, Major Character Injury, Return of the King, Sort Of, also Beregond appears because I love him, it could technically have happened, nobody dies don't worry, the eagles are coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozart_the_Meerkitten/pseuds/Mozart_the_Meerkitten
Summary: Maglor joins the battle at the Black Gate to protect Estel and fight for the world he loves one last time.
Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583329
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	1. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

**Author's Note:**

> Well alright we're getting near the end of this series now. I realized while writing this that there's more than one part to it, so this will be before, during and after the battle. I'm going to be drawing things from the movie and book versions of the battle, but mostly I'm going with the book (I just, I love the shot in the movie where Sauron's army totally surrounds Aragorn's. In a RING. It's incredible). Also Beregond exists because I love him and he is a good boy and I suddenly realized I could have him and Maglor meet. Tags may change and characters may be added. As always I hope you enjoy!

Maglor stared up at the Morannon with a grim expression on his face. If Morgoth could see the designs of his servant he would be proud. The Black Land was nigh impregnable, unless the Valar or Earendil should come swooping down to their aid. But their goal was not to take Mordor, only distract Sauron from the two little hobbits who hopefully even now made their way up the slopes of Orodruin, carrying the Dark Lord’s doom.

Estel, Gandalf and the other captains, along with little Pippin, had ridden to the great Gate to treat with Sauron’s foul messengers. Maglor wished he could have followed them but stayed hidden in his place with the army of Gondor. No good had ever been accomplished by the demands of the Sons of Feanor and he was not about to jeopardize Estel’s mission by revealing himself.

He stood next to Beregond, a member of the Tower Guard and a friend of Pippin’s. They had met before leaving Gondor, when Pippin insisted he must at least wear a helmet into battle.

“You do not look like one of the elvish princes,” the man had said.  
“That is because I am not. Not anymore,” Maglor said quietly.  
“And yet you still seem noble, and would join us in battle,” said Beregond. “You feel somehow older than the very stones of the mountain.”  
Maglor chuckled. “It is likely that I am. And from what Pippin tells me you are far more noble than I. As for my reasons for joining this war… I love Aragorn as you love your captain, Faramir, and I would follow him into the very dungeons of Mordor if that was where he sought to go.”  
Beregond had gazed at him solemnly for a moment, then nodded. “I would be honored to fight alongside you, then, whether you be a prince of the elves or not.”

So there they stood, waiting for the battle to begin. Maglor could not hear the words spoken by the captains and Sauron’s creatures but his keen eyes could make out their actions. So it was that he saw Pippin spring out when Sauron’s lieutenant produced an elvish cloak, a small sword and… a coat of mithril mail. Maglor’s breath caught, and his heart twisted as he put these things together in his mind.

_‘No, oh Eru please no, not the little ones.’_

He had prayed every day of their march to Eru and any Vala who would listen to protect those two little hobbits whose errand was so dire and important. He had pleaded and begged for them and now this. He should have known by now that every action and word he uttered was cursed.

“What is it?” Beregond asked.  
“I-” Maglor swallowed. “The tokens Sauron’s beasts have shown them, they belong to one of Pippin’s kinsmen, one who was on this quest…”

Even as he spoke he realized what he was saying. One. Only one. Perhaps the other had not been caught, perhaps there was still hope…

But his heart went out to the little one who had. While he had never experienced the Enemy’s torments firsthand, he had seen their effects manifested in his brother, in his scars and suffering. He hoped that the other of the hobbits had truly escaped and would manage to complete the quest, simply so that his friend did not have to live long in such anguish.

“Then all is lost,” said Beregond quietly. Maglor turned to him and shook his head.  
“No,” he said, firmly. “The signs account for only one of the hobbits, and two there were who broke from the company. We must hold to that hope,” he fixed his eyes on Estel, who was riding back with great haste along with the other generals. “We must hold to hope.”


	2. The Dark before Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I drew more from the movie battle for this chapter because I do better with visual references, and also I prefer the idea of Aragorn fighting with his men rather than directing the battle from a hilltop (I know, I know, that's how war works, but still). Aaand I love Aragorn's speech at the Black Gate. Also I can't tell how long this battle actually took- it kind of seems like it was over quickly? I may have taken some liberties and lengthened it. I don't know. Tolkien's battle scenes tend to err on the side of less detail so that's my excuse.
> 
> Anyway, there's nothing super graphic in this chapter, but there is blood and, you know, fighting. As I put in the tags, nobody dies (meaning Maglor, I don't kill Maglor, he's the only character I actually could kill without breaking from canon) but I'm not saying nobody gets HURT :))))
> 
> So, anyway, enjoy!

As the other captains joined the army Aragorn came to a halt in front of them. He lifted his head and his voice rang out even as Sauron’s armies thudded towards them from the Black Gate and scrambled down the hills around them.

“Hold your ground! Hold your ground!” called Estel, and Maglor felt the men hearken to him. To their king. To their hope.

“Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship- but it is not this day.”

His boy’s words coursed through his blood, bringing something to life there that had laid dormant for almost two Ages. Something beyond bloodlust and desire for battle. Something deeper and older, that did not have a name in the language of Men.

“An hour of woes and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!”

Maglor cheered with the men, his voice ringing clear into the darkening sky with thousands of others. He watched as Sauron’s armies swept down around them, encircling them, and he bared his teeth in a grim smile. Let them come.

Abruptly the battle began, with the twang of bows and the screams of the wounded tearing the air. The roar of trolls and the crash of swords joined the cacophony and Maglor suddenly charged away through the army until he reached Estel.

His boy stood fiercely swinging his sword through waves of orcs as if they were no more than paper. Without a word Maglor threw himself to his king’s side and joined the battle.

Within the first five minutes of fighting the helmet had already saved his life and been rendered useless. He cut into an orc and turned, only to have something _crash_ against the back of his head. He staggered and tumbled to the ground, blackness taking his vision. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t remember where he was or what he was doing.

Panic and pain spiked through him. Then a wild yell brought him back to the present and he forced his eyes to open.

The helmet was smashed into the side of his head, and with some difficulty he pried it off. His head pounded, but he forced himself to stand. His vision cleared and the battle took shape again before him.

There stood Estel, sword raised against a troll with a great club poised to strike. Maglor gave a scream of fury and sprang at the beast. His sword cut deep into its thick hide, and the beast screamed as black blood poured from its side. With a roar, Estel leapt at the troll and sliced its throat.

Maglor staggered back as the troll toppled to the ground. His breath came in short gasps and his heart thundered in his ears. He found himself looking up into Estel’s eyes.

“Káno,” his boy said in amazement. “You’re here.”  
Maglor nodded. “I could not let you fight this battle alone.”

Estel blinked, then smiled at him. “Well,” he raised his sword. “Together then?”  
Maglor smiled back and lifted his chin. “Together.”

And they charged back into the battle, side by side, the Son of Feanor and the Heir of Elendil, drawing swords together at last.

****

Aragorn had never fought alongside Maglor. The elf had helped train him to fight, but never once had he had the privilege of going into battle with his old friend.

Until now. In his darkest hour, Káno had arrived to fight beside him. And suddenly the darkness did not seem so oppressive, and even the screams of the Nazgul lost their terror. For Káno had fought battles more terrible than this and lived, and that mere fact filled Aragorn with hope.

But there was no time to dwell on how or why Maglor had come to be here. If they survived then there would be time for that later. To look away from the battle now meant almost certain death. For the orcs and trolls and evil men had surrounded their little army, and whenever one of these was cut down ten more took its place.

Aragorn and Káno fought back-to-back, swords swinging almost in unison. They pressed on into the depths of the fighting, and the orcs fled before the ferocity of their onslaught.

Suddenly there was a cry from behind him, and after shoving his sword through the mouth of a warg and beheading its rider, Aragorn dared to turn.

Maglor clutched his arm, and Aragorn could see blood welling up under his hand. He felt a brief burst of fear, then knelt down by his friend.

“How bad is it? Let me see,” he insisted, trying to pull Maglor’s hand away.  
“It isn’t bad, just bleeding a lot, I’ll be fine,” hissed Maglor. “Make sure no one kills us, I only need a moment.”

Aragorn turned back around just in time to dodge a spear a goblin was stabbing at him. He grabbed the shaft of the spear and yanked it from the goblin’s grasp before shoving his sword through its heart. As the goblin tumbled backward, Aragorn felt Maglor brush against him as he stood. He risked a glance at his friend and saw that Maglor had torn off a part of his shirt and tied it tightly around his arm.

“Will you be alright?” he asked.  
Káno nodded. “It’s really only a scratch.”

A screech tore the air above them, and Káno looked up in wonder and amazement even as Aragorn heard Gandalf call out.

“The Eagles are coming!”

The cry was taken up, and Aragorn watched as the great birds flew at the Nazgul, tearing at them with beaks and claws. Beside him, Káno laughed and cheered.

Suddenly the ground rumbled beneath them, then shook them almost to their knees. Aragorn and Maglor looked up even as fire and light sprang into the sky of the Black Land. The Nazgul screeched in terror, trying desperately to break away from the Eagles and reach the mountain. The orcs and beasts hesitated and turned their gazes back.

Then the world of the Enemy crumbled. The Black Gate split with a roar like thunder, and the Tower of Barad-Dur fell, toppling to the ground with a crash that shook the foundations of Middle Earth. The smell of dust and smoke filled the air, and a great Shadow rose into the sky above the Black Land, and Aragorn gripped his sword tighter, waiting for the Enemy’s last strike.

It never came. A wind sprang out of the West and blew the Shadow away as if it were no more than dust.

Gandalf’s voice rang out in the silence in the wake of the crashings and thunderings.

“The realm of Sauron is ended! The Ringbearer has fulfilled his Quest.”

****

Maglor felt a jolt run through his chest at Gandalf’s words. The men around him cheered raggedly, and indeed, as the Shadow vanished he felt a weight lift from his heart. The darkness was vanquished. Sauron had finally perished.

But at the same time, even as he watched the servants of Sauron turn and flee, fear welled up within him, and he turned to Aragorn.  
“The hobbits,” he said. “They will not survive the fury of Orodruin.”  
“That is why Gandalf makes such haste, if I am not mistaken,” said Estel, nodding to where Gandalf was already flying away on the back of Gwaihir, lord of the Eagles, with two more of the great birds in tow.

Maglor turned to where a group of Easterlings and Southrons stood as if they were still prepared for battle and looked at his boy. “It appears you have work to do yet, my king.”  
Aragorn nodded. “And you had best get your arm looked at.”  
Then he took Maglor by the shoulders and wrapped him in his arms.  
“Thank you, Káno,” he said, quietly.  
Maglor fought back the tears that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him and laughed. “Thank _you_ , my little Estel.”


	3. Wounded but Victorious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for now; the aftermath of the battle and the Field of Cormallen. Enjoy!

Maglor walked through the field of Cormallen, smiling at the flowers that poked out of the grass and waved in the breeze. It had been a long time indeed since he had felt so at peace. He had not realized how much the Shadow of Sauron’s corruption had weighed on him until it had gone and he felt lighter than he had for, well, for more years than he cared to count.

After the battle he had left Estel to command his men and deal with what enemies were left. He had wandered and stumbled, not sure of where he was going, until his feet brought him to the tents of the healers that had been hurriedly set up for the most gravely wounded. Not deeming himself such, Maglor had sat outside and looked around at the filth of the defeated Dark Land. But he had not known what to do until the Eagles swooped down from on high, bearing precious burdens.

He had sprung to his feet when he saw the Eagles gently lay two small bodies on the ground. Gandalf climbed off after them and knelt down beside the hobbits. Maglor felt his throat tighten, for the halflings looked as though they were dead, but he could not bring himself to draw near and face the wizard or the Eagles.

To his relief, the hobbits were hurried inside the tents. He waited until Gandalf was speaking with Gwaihir, then slipped in after them.

Several healers hurried around the hobbits, and Maglor felt another weight lift off his heart when he realized that they were both breathing, and that Sauron’s herald had been deceiving them when he said that one of the hobbits had been captured.

It seemed a very long time before the activity around Frodo and Sam had lessened and Maglor dared approach them. He knelt before their beds and gazed at their haggard faces, which nonetheless seemed peaceful. Tears sprang into his eyes, and he whispered a prayer of thanks to Eru and Varda and Manwe that the little ones had succeeded- and survived.

“In all my years in this Middle Earth this is one of the strangest sights I have ever seen; a Son of Feanor weeping at the bedside of two halflings.”

Maglor jumped and whipped around, scrambling to his feet. Gandalf stood there, leaning on his staff, watching him closely.

“I knew you still dwelt in Middle Earth, Maglor, but I had not thought you would take part in the events of this Age,” said the wizard.  
Maglor swallowed and fought to ignore the feelings of shame and fear that stabbed into his heart. “N-Nor did I, Mithrandir. But I could not ignore Estel’s call. Nor did I want to.”  
“So you came at Aragorn’s request?” said Gandalf curiously.  
“No,” said Maglor, finally mastering his voice. “He did not know I had followed him until this very day when I came and fought beside him in battle. I followed the Dunedain and the sons of Elrond when they rode to aid him,” he swallowed again. “I’m rather surprised you seem to know so little of my doings, Mithrandir, I would have thought Elrond would have mentioned my presence in Imlardris.”  
“I knew you dwelt there,” said Gandalf. “But I did not realize how close you were to Aragorn. He never spoke of you, in all our journeys together. Nor did Elrond mention your friendship. Since you seemed no threat I never looked into what you were doing in Rivendell.”  
Maglor took a deep breath. “So where does that leave us then?”  
Gandalf gazed at him for a long time. So long that Maglor looked away, staring down at the ground even as it seemed as if Gandalf were looking into his very soul.

Finally, the wizard spoke again. “Will you tend to the hobbits until Aragorn comes to them?” he asked.  
Maglor looked up, startled. “W-what? I mean, yes, of course, but why-”  
“They have suffered hurts that go beyond their physical injuries,” said Gandalf. “If you are willing to stay and help them then I will attend to other matters.”  
Maglor frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you trusting me with them?”  
Gandalf sighed. “If Elrond trusted you with the heir of Elendil then I believe I can trust you as well. Tend them well, Kano.” And with that, the wizard had turned and left.

Maglor had stood there for a few moments, too deep in confusion to quite know what to do. Then abruptly he sat between the beds of the hobbits, shut his eyes and began to sing old songs of healing that the world had long forgotten.

****

Maglor had sang to and watched over the hobbits until Aragorn had arrived to tend to them. Estel had seemed surprised to find him there, and Maglor had only been able to smile tiredly and shrug at him, shaking his head. Mercifully, Estel had not asked him to explain, but simply began caring for the hobbits.

Estel didn’t ask him to leave, and Maglor wasn’t sure where he would have gone anyway, so he stayed sitting by the hobbit’s beds, watching his boy work. He helped when he could and dozed when he could not.

He awoke to Estel pressing something cool and soft against the side of his head. He blinked, and realized suddenly that it was dark outside, but the dark of an ordinary night rather than the black Shadow that had plagued the land.

Maglor breathed in the scent of athelas and sighed. “Are the hobbits well?”  
Estel chuckled. “They’re fine, Kano. They will sleep soundly for many days and heal from their hurts,” he shifted so that Maglor could see his face. “You, on the other hand, have taken such a nasty knock on the head that it’s a wonder it didn’t split your skull.”  
Maglor smiled. “You may thank Pippin for finding me the helmet that saved me from such a fate,” then suddenly worried, he straightened up. “Pippin made it through the battle, didn’t he?”  
“Yes. He was nearly crushed by a troll, but Gimli found him in time. Gandalf and I have revived him and he sleeps as well, nearby.”  
Maglor let out a breath and leaned back. “Good.”  
He could hear the smile in Estel’s voice when the boy spoke again. “You have become very fond of the hobbits I see.”  
“If I have then it is your fault for introducing me to them,” he said, smiling as he shut his eyes again.  
“And I am very glad to have done so,” said Estel. “Apparently I began a great friendship on that day in Rivendell, between the most ancient elf and the most renowned halflings in all of Middle Earth.”  
“And I am glad you did,” said Maglor. “My life would have been incomplete had I never met halflings of the Shire.”

They sat in companionable silence for a time after that. Estel bathed Maglor’s head, then his wounded arm in athelas water and bound it in clean bandages. Maglor was nearly asleep when his boy spoke again.

“Why did you come, Kano?” he asked, quietly.  
Maglor blinked, fully awake again. “As I said, I could not leave you to fight this battle without me. I… wanted to help you, and I hope that I have, but I could not bear the thought of someone I loved fighting in such a war while I stayed safe in the woods of Imladris.”  
Estel stared at him with something almost like the boyish wonder he had once had when Maglor would tell him ancient tales or songs. “So you left your life of peace and joined a war in which you had no score to settle… because of me. Because you wanted me to be safe.”  
Maglor nodded. “Yes. Either that or to die by your side and go to the Halls of Mandos finally having fought for something good, rather than a cause tainted by darkness and greed.”

And then Estel smiled, a great beaming smile like he used to give when he was a boy, even as tears spilled from his eyes. He reached out and gently pulled Maglor into a hug, and Maglor sighed contentedly as he laid his head on his boy’s shoulder.

“You are a better friend than any man deserves, Kano,” said Estel, quietly. “No matter what you’ve done in your past you are the most loyal and true friend I have ever had,” he squeezed the elf gently. “Never forget that.”

****

It was now nearly a fortnight since the battle, and the army and the healers had moved to the field of Cormallen in Ithilien. Here the air was fresh and clean and full of life, the perfect place to find healing and a will to live again, Maglor reflected.

Much had happened in the past two weeks. Men travelled back and forth from Ithilien to Gondor bringing news and supplies. Estel was busy much of the time, but without fail every day he found time to check on Maglor (and see that he had not wandered off, Estel confessed to him one day).

During one such visit Maglor pulled the boy down into a chair in his little tent and looked seriously into his eyes.  
“When was the last time you rested, Estel?” he asked.  
Aragorn sighed. “A king doesn’t have much time to rest, Kano, not when so much is happening.”  
Maglor raised an eyebrow. “I have been the son, brother, nephew and cousin of High Kings,” he said. “And from every single one I have heard that same ridiculous excuse.”  
Estel looked surprised and Maglor rolled his eyes. “It has been three days since the battle, Estel,” said the elf. “You look worn. And you are right, there is much to do, but if you collapse from exhaustion then there will be no one to do it at all, and when you awake you will be the worse off than if you had just rested in the first place. So,” he leaned back and folded his arms, being careful of his injured one. “Rest.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow back at him skeptically. “Is that an order?”  
“Only if it needs to be,” said Maglor. “But as your father isn’t here and I did tell him I would look after you I would appreciate if you would simply oblige my firm request.”  
Estel laughed. “Alright, Kano, alright. But how do you plan to enforce it? I may rest, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be interrupted by those wishing for my counsel.”  
“I will sit outside your tent and direct them elsewhere,” said Maglor. “That is, if my very presence does not keep them away. I seem to hold an aura of either amazement or disgust for most of those here.”  
Aragorn shook his head. “I ought to exile anyone disgusted by you, Kano.”  
Maglor smiled tightly. “I wouldn’t say that until you know precisely who you would be exiling. Now, enough delay. Shall we stay in my tent or go to yours?”

And this too became a daily ritual to them. In the evening, Maglor would sit outside Aragorn’s tent, arms folded, eyes shut, waiting to turn away anyone who would disturb him. Sometime in the late night or early morning (no one had ever seen it happen to know for certain) the elf would vanish from the tent. When it was noticed that Maglor had gone it was the signal to messengers or captains that the king was once again ready for their intrusions.

Now, preparations were being made for a celebration. Estel said that the hobbits were close to waking and Maglor found himself looking forward to the feast and festivities that would take place.  
For the first time in a long time he had a victory that was worth celebrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maglor's priority list:
> 
> 1\. Estel's wellbeing and safety  
> 2\. The hobbits' wellbeing and safety
> 
> I don't know where the part with Gandalf came from, I didn't plan to write it it just sort of... happened. Hopefully it was fine, I've never written Gandalf before, as far as I can remember. Anyway, after this there will be at least two more stories- one for Aragorn's coronation and one for Maglor and Aragorn's farewell before Maglor leaves Middle Earth. There will also be the concluding chapter of Little Talks. After all that will come at least one more story that will not have Estel, but will have hobbits and Maglor's departure from Middle Earth, so stay tuned for that.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more action in the next chapter, I promise. But I wanted to have Maglor reacting to things (especially the hobbits potentially being captured and held as prisoners in Mordor) and it would have slowed the pace of the story too much if I put it right before the battle with no break..


End file.
